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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654583">2,175 Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tor_Raptor/pseuds/Tor_Raptor'>Tor_Raptor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Gravesen Chronicles [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ASL, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Archery, Cancer, Chemotherapy, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kid Avengers, Neuroblastoma, Surgery, hearing loss, major character illness, radiation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:54:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tor_Raptor/pseuds/Tor_Raptor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint didn't remember before Gravesen. He didn't remember all of during either. Of the two thousand one hundred seventy five days he'd spent fighting cancer, he remembered only the really good ones...and the really bad ones.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton &amp; Scott Lang, Clint Barton &amp; Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Gravesen Chronicles [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Earliest Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to Clint's prequel! We are on the home stretch of prequel material here, y'all. Only this and Tony's stand between us and 85 chapters of After Gravesen. I am so excited to continue establishing the roots of these characters so we can watch them grow in the future. As I've mentioned before, this prequel draws on a lot of the themes you've seen before in other stories, especially the joviality of Thor's and the harsh medical realism of Natasha's. This first chapter is more of the fun side :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint couldn't remember life before cancer. He vaguely remembered that he used to have longer hair, but he didn't know if he actually remembered it or just saw it in old pictures of himself. Preschool—<em>normal</em> preschool as a <em>normal</em> kid—also sat hazily in the recesses of his memory. Playing with other kids who didn't look at him funny under the supervision of adults who didn't watch him more than anyone else because they were afraid he would break or something. He didn't even remember the process of getting diagnosed, of going from a healthy, happy kid to a sick one. Whenever he cast his mind back, he couldn't get much further than the early days of treatment, when they'd still had real hope that he'd get better. He remembered the fear and the pain vividly, but he also remembered the fun. In fact, when he looked back on the journey of the past six years—a journey totaling two thousand one hundred seventy five days—he saw only a collection of memories built of pain, laughter, suffering, joy, and, most importantly, of people.</p>
<p>~0~</p>
<p>The first new people he met: Dr. Potts and all the nurses on Gravesen's pediatric residential ward. They were the ones who explained to him and his parents that he had neuroblastoma. He knew that's what it was called, and that it was a big mass of bad cells in his belly with pieces scattered all over his body. He also knew that to fix it, he needed to do all different sorts of treatments. The nurses and Dr. Potts seemed nice enough, even though some of the things they described sounded really scary. But, given that he was only four years old, that's about all he knew.</p>
<p>The next new person he met visited him on his first day in the hospital and introduced himself as Steve, another patient on the ward. Steve then introduced him to Scott and showed them both around the ward that they would call home for the foreseeable future. Clint liked Steve. And Scott. He'd never had any brothers or sisters, but he'd always wanted one. Before long, the three of them had matching IV poles and felt almost like a miniature family.</p>
<p>"Steve, come play with us!" Scott exclaimed when the older boy wandered into the common room.</p>
<p>"Sure, what are we playing?"</p>
<p>"Pirates." Clint was elated to have a third person in on the game. His parents and Scott's dad, Mr. Lang, were busy reading pamphlets and working on the computer, and had just told Clint and Scott to play together. But the game grew exponentially more fun with a third person.</p>
<p>Scott immediately handed a piece of paper with a bunch of crayon scribbles on it to Steve. "You can be the captain," he proclaimed.</p>
<p>"Me? But I just got here. Shouldn't someone more experienced be the captain?" Steve asked, attempting to hand the map back.</p>
<p>"You are more experienced," Scott insisted. "You're, what, fifteen years old? That's so many years."</p>
<p>Steve laughed. "Scott, I'm only nine."</p>
<p>"Well that's…" Scott paused to count on his fingers. "Still five more years than me. You're in charge."</p>
<p>"Okay," Steve relented.</p>
<p>"Aye aye, Captain!" Scott said with a salute.</p>
<p>"Aye aye, Captain!" Clint echoed. "Where to?"</p>
<p>Steve squinted at the piece of paper in his hands. He held it out to them and pointed to a red X in the corner. "Set sail for this X. I bet we'll find treasure there."</p>
<p>"Yay! Treasure!" Scott said joyfully. He picked up a little kaleidoscope that he'd claimed they could pretend was a telescope and looked around the room. "That way."</p>
<p>Clint hopped up onto the base of his IV pole, holding onto it with one hand and placing the other above his eyes to survey the surroundings like a pirate climbing the crow's nest. "Yes, that way," he confirmed. Scott picked up the toy pirate ship from the floor and handed it to Steve. Carrying the boat, they walked slowly to the other side of the common room, Scott occasionally calling out random pirate phrases like, "Swab the deck!" and "Walk the plank!"</p>
<p>They arrived at the site of buried treasure: the biggest, cushiest armchair in the common room. Scott immediately plunged his hand into the gap between the back of the chair and the cushion to dig for buried treasure. "Got it!" he exclaimed. He pulled out a single penny.</p>
<p>"A gold coin!" Steve announced. "Excellent find, First Mate."</p>
<p>"If he's first mate, then what am I?" Clint asked.</p>
<p>"Second First Mate," Scott suggested.</p>
<p>"Okay."</p>
<p>"Let's look for more." Scott returned his hand to the depths of the armchair.</p>
<p>"Don't touch your face after having your hand in there, Scott, it's bound to be dirty and you don't want to catch any germs."</p>
<p>"They clean everything in here every day," Clint said.</p>
<p>"Yes, but I don't think they cleaned the buried treasure. They don't have the map, so they don't even know it's here."</p>
<p>"I guess you're right." Clint grabbed one of the several bottles of hand sanitizer around the common room and handed it to Scott to clean off the penny, and now the nickel he'd unearthed from the chair.</p>
<p>"Let's search all the seven seas," Scott insisted. He spent the next half an hour digging through all the couch cushions and chairs, even booting his dad from his seat so he could check under him. By the time they finished, their treasure amounted to three pennies, a nickel, two quarters, a hair tie, and a Nerf dart.</p>
<p>"Good haul," Steve announced. "You two are very good pirates."</p>
<p>"Thanks, Cap," Scott said. Then he looked at Clint with a devious smile on his face. Without him having to say a word, Clint knew exactly what he meant. "Mutiny!" they cheered. Together, they charged Steve. He held them at bay with a hand on each of their heads for a few moments, but then he released them and let them bowl him to the floor. Clint and Scott ceased their attack after only a few seconds and collapsed into giggles.</p>
<p>~0~</p>
<p>Eventually, Steve had to go home. Clint and Scott missed him, but they still found ways to have fun just the two of them. One day, while walking laps of the ward, they stumbled upon something more fun than any of the toys in the common room. At the end of the hallway, by the back staircase, sat a massive stack of cardboard boxes. Bigger than any Clint had ever seen. "What are all those for?" he asked Nurse Peggy.</p>
<p>"We just got a shipment of a bunch of supplies, and those are the boxes it came in. The janitors will take them away to be recycled soon."</p>
<p>"That's no fun," Scott grumbled. Then he lit up, a goofy smile erupting onto his face. "I know what to do!"</p>
<p>"What?" Clint asked.</p>
<p>"We should make a fort in the common room."</p>
<p>"That sounds like great fun," Peggy agreed. "I'm sure your parents would be willing to help you carry them and set it up."</p>
<p>Eager to get going, they raced off to the common room where their families were watching football. "Attention!" Scott called. "There's a big stack of boxes in danger of getting thrown away if we don't do something about it!"</p>
<p>"What do you want to do, Scotty?" his dad asked.</p>
<p>"Nurse Peggy said we could bring them in here to build a fort."</p>
<p>"Alright. We're on it." Mr. Lang stood up and Scott grabbed his hand and started dragging him down the hall. Clint did the same with his mom. Together, the four of them managed to move all the boxes into the common room in just over twenty minutes. While many of them were enormous, none of them were heavy because they were only cardboard. Even Clint could push the biggest ones, but it was easier to work in teams.</p>
<p>"You guys do that side of the room, and Mommy and I will do this side," Clint suggested. "Then we can have a Nerf war."</p>
<p>"Let's do it!" Scott cheered. Clint and his mom looked at their stack of boxes and the existing furniture layout and decided where to add caves and tunnels. They placed a box on either side of the couch to extend its protection, and added a tunnel pointing toward Scott's side of the room so he could sneak up. With so many boxes, they didn't even know what to do with them all. When they finished, Clint jumped up on the couch to survey the other side of the room. The Langs had used every single one of their boxes to construct a labyrinth of tunnels between the chairs and tables.</p>
<p>"We can use those boxes to connect the two sides," Scott said, pointing out the extras that Clint hadn't used.</p>
<p>"Yeah! And then we can sneak into each other's sides and be spies!"</p>
<p>"Exactly!" They used what remained of Clint's boxes to extend his tunnel to connect to one of Scott's. When they finished, barely an inch of open floor remained in the common room. Everything else was covered in furniture or cardboard boxes. They got lost three times on their way to the toy cabinet to find the Nerf guns. Both parents bowed out of participating, but promised to watch—Clint knew that meant they'd barely pay attention and only step in if someone got hurt.</p>
<p>"Are you ready for this?" Scott asked, cocking his Nerf gun.</p>
<p>"It's on."</p>
<p>Clint scrambled back towards his side of the fort, Scott heading the opposite direction into his. He crawled through his tunnel until he reached the first opening, then popped up like a meerkat to scan for any sign of Scott. One section of his boxes rustled, but he didn't jump into view, so Clint ducked back down. Deciding to take the fight to Scott, he headed towards his section of the fort. Scott and his dad didn't mess around when it came to fort design. A few feet after crossing into Scott's territory, he encountered a crossroads. With no path ahead of him, he could choose either left or right. He listened out, but he couldn't hear any sign of movement from either side. Scott must've been too far away or too still. Clint decided to go right.</p>
<p>He emerged behind one of the chairs, with another tunnel to his left. Clint stood up and looked around for Scott again. Still no sign of him. He dove back down and continued into the next tunnel. At the next crossroads, he turned left and saw Scott standing ahead of him in a small clearing between boxes. "Gotcha!" Clint cried, firing a dart. It hit Scott right in the knee.</p>
<p>"Hey!" he shouted, diving into the tunnel and shooting at Clint. Luckily, he missed. Clint crawled backwards until he reached the previous clearing and turned around and scurried back to his side of the fort. Scott fired another shot after him, but he missed. Seemingly, he gave up, because he neither pursued nor continued to shoot at Clint. He paused, listening for any sign of pursuit, then decided to turn around and collect the second dart Scott had fired. Maintaining his ammo supply was crucial, and he'd lost one hitting Scott already.</p>
<p>Clint retreated to his side of the fort, popping up again in a clearing to see where Scott stood. He couldn't tell, so he sat back down and thought about what to do next. On one hand, he could head to the other side and hunt Scott down again, but now the other boy would be on the lookout for him to do just that. A better bet was to stick around here and wait for Scott to either come to him or pop up. Clint knew he could hit him from this distance. He crouched so just his head stuck up and watched for any sign of movement.</p>
<p>Scott stood up a few moments later and Clint immediately took his shot, hitting him square in the chest. He retaliated, but Clint ducked back down just in time. Panting with exertion and excitement, he crawled back toward Scott's side. The other boy was waiting for him right at the junction between their two sides. He fired a shot that hit Clint right in the forehead.</p>
<p>"Gotcha!" he called.</p>
<p>"Ouch," Clint said. It didn't really hurt, certainly not compared to needle sticks, but he still felt it. Scott turned around and disappeared around one of the corners, so Clint returned to his side and poked his head out of that same hole. When Scott popped up again, he shot him. A direct hit.</p>
<p>"Darn it!" Scott exclaimed. "How are you so good at this?"</p>
<p>"Good aim," Clint explained, hitting him again. He ducked back down and checked how many Nerf bullets he had left. Only three. He'd better use them well. With a yell, Clint hopped up onto the sofa and pointed the gun at the last spot he'd seen Scott. As he watched sections of box wiggle as Scott crawled through them, he tracked it. The next time Scott reached an uncovered section, Clint shot him again. "Bullseye."</p>
<p>Scott stood up on the table and shot back, hitting Clint in the arm. Clint expected one of the adults to yell at him for standing on a table, but they were nowhere in sight. They must have slipped out to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. With a yell, both boys decided to empty their cartridges at each other. Every single one of Clint's shots struck Scott, but the other boy's accuracy was more like thirty percent. What he lacked in marksmanship he made up for in enthusiasm. Both exhausted and elated, they collapsed on the sofa giggling.</p>
<p>"That was awesome," Scott said.</p>
<p>"Totally awesome," Clint echoed.</p>
<p>There was cancer treatment going on, in those earliest days. Clint knew it to be true because he wouldn't have been at Gravesen at all if there wasn't, but he barely remembered that part. Maybe it was selective ignorance, his brain wiping out the bad parts in an attempt to keep him happy. Or maybe the good memories were so good, and so big, that they took up more space in his brain and pushed the bad ones out. Whatever the reason, whenever he thought about those first few weeks, he only remembered the fun and games.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Worst Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott had his big surgery first. Theirs were actually scheduled within days of each other. The two were on almost the exact same treatment schedule and protocol, so after their first round of chemo shrank the primary tumors, they needed to be removed. "Are you scared?" Clint asked him the night before. He wasn't admitted yet, but he'd insisted on visiting Scott before the big day.</p><p>"Not really," Scott said. "Daddy said I'm gonna be asleep the whole time so it won't hurt."</p><p>"That's good." From what Clint's doctors had told him about his own surgery, it sounded pretty scary, but he trusted them to take good care of him. Mom came in to tell him it was time to go home, so Clint wished Scott good luck and hugged him goodbye.</p><p>He didn't see him again until two days later, when he checked into Gravesen for his own surgery. Clint tore off to Scott's room at the first opportunity and knocked on the door. Mr. Lang opened it quietly and stepped into the hallway without letting Clint see into the room.</p><p>"Can I say hi to Scott?" he asked politely.</p><p>"He's sleeping right now," Mr. Lang whispered. Evidently, Clint timed his visit perfectly, because within moments of Mr. Lang saying that, a feeble voice from within the room called, "Daddy?"</p><p>Mr. Lang muttered something under his breath and stepped back into the room. Clint slipped in after him.</p><p>Just a few days ago, Scott said he wasn't scared. He should've been. Clint was scared. Scott lay flat on his back, eyes glassy and barely focused. His chest was bare and covered in sticky pads and wires. A long line of thin white strips ran almost all the way across his belly, covering an angry red line. He didn't even pick his head up when Clint said hello.</p><p>"Clint's here," Mr. Lang said, sitting down beside Scott and taking his hand. Scott said nothing, just barely turned his head towards his father's voice.</p><p>Clint bolted.</p><p>He ran straight into his mother's arms and broke down sobbing and begging to go home. The surgery had sucked all the life out of Scott and Clint didn't want it to do the same to him tomorrow.</p><p>"I don't want it," he wailed.</p><p>Mommy wrapped her arms around him even tighter. "I know you don't, but this is what's going to take all the bad cells away. They can't stay in your body or they'll hurt you."</p><p>"The doctors are gonna hurt me. They hurt Scott."</p><p>"I know it looks like they hurt him, but they only did what they had to do to make him better. You'll be better too, after they take out the bad cells."</p><p>"Promise?"</p><p>"I promise."</p><p>It took Clint an hour to stop crying. Just in time for nurses to come in and check him over for tomorrow's procedure. Clint just sat there, pliant and silent, while they worked, too tired from crying and too afraid for tomorrow to say a word. He slept fitfully that night and cried for another half an hour in the morning before they took him to the operating room. They let him walk there, holding Mommy's hand the whole time. "See you soon," she whispered as Clint's eyelids began to flutter.</p><p>She didn't see him soon. At least, not as soon as they told her. Clint later learned that the surgery had taken over twelve hours instead of the planned eight because the cancer had seeped into so many nooks and crannies of his abdominal cavity. When he woke up, though, he didn't know anything except that he was more uncomfortable than he'd ever been in his entire life. He felt as bad as Scott had looked the previous day.</p><p>Too tired to even cry or voice his discomfort, he fell back asleep. Whatever medicine they had him on made everything fuzzy, and he didn't want to do anything other than sleep. He didn't even sit up until four days later, and even then only for a little bit because it hurt so badly. The good news was they got as much of the tumor out as they could. Scott's was evidently more complicated, because the following week he went back in for a second surgery to remove everything they didn't get the first time. While he was away, Clint's parents invited Mr. Lang to sit with them in Clint's room to keep him company. He was mostly quiet, except for when Clint asked him to read a story. If Steve couldn't be here to do it, Mr. Lang was Clint's next favorite. He was really good at doing different voices for different characters, but this time his heart clearly wasn't in it. Scott was gone for ten hours, and nobody slept during that time except for Clint.</p><p>Mommy's promise did hold up, but it took a while and it didn't last. Once the incision across his torso stopped hurting, he realized he couldn't really feel the big mass that had been in there before. The doctors told him it was as big as a softball and showed him one for reference. Clint had stared at it wide-eyed, not believing something that big could ever fit in his belly. But now it was gone, and all that stood between him and being cancer free was…a lot more treatments, actually. He thought that would be the hardest part. But he was wrong.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Stem cell rescue easily made the top of the list of worst memories. Just the fact that it was called a "rescue" pissed him off. Rescue implied saving him from danger, but the process actually placed him in mortal peril. That was not an exaggeration—the chemo he received leading up to it was actually deemed "incompatible with life," he heard Dr. Potts say those exact words. But before that, they had to harvest the stem cells that would later be reinfused into him.</p><p>He went home after the previous cycle of chemo ended, thinking he'd be done with pokes and prods since, every time before, going home had meant an end of all that. He was wrong. Mom had to give him a shot of growth factors every day to stimulate his bone marrow to make more of the cells they wanted. A week after that began, they added a daily blood draw at the hospital's lab to the process. Clint didn't even bother to keep track of how many days of shots and blood tests followed that. And then, to top it all off, he got another central line in addition to the port already in his chest. This one didn't hide under his skin, so if he wanted to take a bath or shower Mom had to cover it, which was an ordeal and a half in itself.</p><p>Then the real fun began. Now they needed to take all the cells they'd forced his body to make out of him to save them for later. Clint thought that sounded rather terrifying, and he was absolutely right. Doctors hooked up his new central line to a strange machine that took his blood, filtered it, and returned it. He had to lie there for three or four hours while the machine did its job, and by the time it was over and he got to go home his head was spinning from all the fluctuation in his blood volume. Then he got to go back and do it again the next day. And the next. They took four days' worth of stem cells.</p><p>That was the easy part.</p><p>Now that they had all the stem cells, they needed to exterminate the cancer cells and his bone marrow. Clint had done chemo before, and while it was horrible and he despised it, he realized how good he had it with those treatments when he started this kind. He completely understood why Dr. Potts had called it "incompatible with life." During the worst of it, Clint begged Mom and Dad, the nurses, the doctors, anyone who would listen, to stop it. Beating cancer wasn't worth it if he had to do this any longer.</p><p>The side effects of chemo in such high doses were devastating—it turned his sweat into a hazardous material capable of giving him chemical burns. Because of this, the nurses had to do a complete decontamination every few hours: strip the bed, change the sheets, strip <em>him</em>, bathe him, and change his clothes. And repeat. Clint wanted nothing more than to just sleep through the infusion, but he was woken up on schedule and forced to cooperate. It reached a point where he'd see nurses walk in and just reflexively start crying and begging to go back to sleep. The worst part: he was so susceptible to infection that he couldn't leave the room at all, and anyone who came to visit had to wear protective clothing. The combination of isolation and physical misery drove him crazy. Scott endured the same thing just a few doors down, but Clint wasn't allowed to see him or play with him. Not that he felt up to playing anyway. Some days he couldn't even physically lift his head from the pillow.</p><p>At last, when that phase ended, they returned his stem cells to him via a blood transfusion and waited for his counts to start climbing as the transplant took. During that time period, he got more blood and platelet transfusions than he could count. He spent a month in the hospital, but it felt more like a year. Even when he got to go home, it wasn't over; he had to go into clinic practically every day to have his levels checked again. Clint deemed it worse than any other regimen they subjected him to, and he let Dr. Potts know it.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Dad started teaching him archery when Clint was five. Right after that first stem cell rescue, his immune system was too damaged to go anywhere in public, so they had to find things to do within the house and yard. Clint didn't have the energy for much running around, but shooting didn't require as much cardio.</p><p>He didn't often talk about this because he didn't like to boast, but in his youth Clint's dad actually qualified for Olympic archery. So he knew his stuff. Dad set up a target in the backyard and they spent hours practicing together. Clint would never forget the feeling of launching that first arrow, though it quickly became the first of countless.</p><p>He picked up the bow, a small, simple one Dad handmade just for him from wood, and tried his best to mimic the stance he'd seen Dad demonstrate. Dad gently nudged his elbows into the proper position, then adjusted his feet. They practiced finding that position a few times before Dad let him nock a real arrow.</p><p>"Okay, hold on. Don't shoot," he warned as Clint now held his first loaded bow. "You see where you're going?"</p><p>Clint looked towards the target strung up on a tree a few meters away and hummed in confirmation.</p><p>"Okay, now let's worry about how you get there." Dad readjusted Clint's footing and his arms' position while he zeroed in on the target. "Here. Can you see?" Dad asked, pointing to the target.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"You sure?"</p><p>Another affirmative hum. Dad lifted a hand to cover Clint's eyes. "How about now?"</p><p>Clint giggled and bobbed his head out of the way so he could see the target. He took a deep breath and released the arrow. It hit the target with a resounding thwack halfway between the center and the rim. Clint jumped up and down in excitement. He picked up another arrow and tried again, this one landing almost directly opposite the first but no closer to the middle.</p><p>"You're a natural!" Dad said. They high-fived victoriously. "Keep practicing and you'll be hitting bullseyes in no time."</p><p>And practice he did. Anytime he wasn't at Gravesen or in bed, he was in the backyard with his bow. Obviously while in the hospital he couldn't practice, but he found the next best thing. While digging through the toy cabinet, he found a dartboard with magnet-tipped darts. If he was well enough to stand up and had no friends currently admitted to hang out with, he spent the time throwing darts.</p><p>Clint was in the middle of a round of darts when Scott walked into the common room. The other boy often slept in later than Clint; their treatment schedules didn't line up as exactly as they had right at the beginning because Scott's cancer was taking a different course than Clint's. Scott agreed to play darts with Clint a few times, and he wasn't a sore loser about it, but out of respect for him Clint put them down and suggested they play something else.</p><p>"How about Go Fish?"</p><p>"Sure." Scott grabbed one of the many decks of cards from the drawer of smaller toys and they sat down on the floor together. They'd known each other longer than a year now; Scott was just as tiny as ever, whereas Clint had grown almost an inch—he knew because his Dad marked it on the inside of his closet door every few months.</p><p>"Do you have any queens?" Scott asked on his first turn.</p><p>Clint giggled. Yesterday they went to visit the bald lady in the classroom and she taught them all about ant colonies. The queen was in charge of everything, and she was also the mommy of all the worker ants. "If you have a queen, you must be an ant."</p><p>"I guess so."</p><p>"Go fish, Ant-Man." Scott reluctantly drew a card, but he smiled, so Clint guessed it was probably a queen. "Do you have any sixes?" Clint asked. Scott handed over a card from his hand. They played several rounds, until they both grew tired enough to need a nap. Chemo had a way of wiping out all their youthful energy. Clint missed the way he felt towards the tail end of his recovery from stem cell rescue, when his counts had climbed back up to normal and he hadn't had any poison infusions in weeks.</p><p>~0~</p><p>The only thing worse than the first stem cell rescue was the second time they made him do it only a few months after the first. This time, Clint knew exactly what to expect and exactly how much he would hate it. He threw the worst tantrum that his treatment-weakened body could produce, throwing punches at his parents, nurses, and anyone who dared approach to try and calm him down. Mom and Dad started whispering to the nurse, but Clint couldn't hear them over his own screams. He recognized what they were talking about only after it happened: they sedated him, and put in his spanking new central line while he was out. Clint had never felt more violated, more out of control of his own body, than that moment.</p><p>"I hate you," he told both of his parents in the aftermath of that incident. They didn't yell or scold him for that remark, in fact just the opposite.</p><p>"We love you," they said. "And we know you don't want to do this, but it's what we have to do for you to get better." By that point, Clint wasn't entirely sure they were telling the truth about treatments making him better. He only seemed to get sicker by the week. This time, he was too exhausted to even put up a fight when the nurses descended to switch out his clothes and sheets and disturb his rest.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Clint's first tooth started to wiggle a few days after he left Gravesen after stem cell rescue round two. He was in the backyard shooting, when he ran his tongue over his teeth in concentration and felt it give a little bit. For the rest of his practice, which only lasted fifteen minutes since his body was still so drained from high dose chemo, he worked at the tooth with his tongue. When he went back inside, he immediately told Mommy the good news. "My tooth is loose," he announced proudly.</p><p>"Oh really? That's exciting," she said knowingly.</p><p>"Will the Tooth Fairy still come if I'm at Gravesen when it falls out?"</p><p>"Of course. The Tooth Fairy comes to whatever pillow you put the tooth under," Mom explained. "But only if you're asleep." Clint nodded, and spent the rest of the day wiggling the tooth. The next morning when they went to clinic to have his levels checked, he eagerly told the nurse accessing his port about his loose tooth. She didn't sound as excited as Mom. In fact, after she got all the blood from him that she needed, she waved Mom over and briefly talked to her. Clint strained to listen, but he couldn't make out a word they were saying.</p><p>On the way home, Mom explained to him what they'd talked about. "Clint, I need to ask you to do something very important for me."</p><p>He stopped wiggling his tooth long enough to respond. "What is it?"</p><p>"You need to stop wiggling your tooth."</p><p>"What? Why?"</p><p>"Because, when it falls out, there will be a hole in your gums. And it might bleed a little bit."</p><p>"That's okay. I bleed way more than a little bit when they take labs."</p><p>"Yes, but that's not in your mouth. You see, there are lots of little germs that live in your mouth, and when your tooth falls out they'll have a doorway to get into your blood. And since your counts are still so low, you don't have enough cells in your blood to fight the germs. And that could be very dangerous."</p><p>Now Clint was very scared. As much as he'd wanted his tooth to fall out before, that's how badly he didn't want it to fall out now. "When will it be safe to come out?"</p><p>"I don't know. We have to see how your counts recover over the next few weeks. But it's your job to keep that tooth in for as long as possible, can you do that?"</p><p>"I—I think so."</p><p>It was one of the hardest things Clint ever had to do. Every time he caught himself poking at the tooth, he bit his tongue with his back teeth. He requested soft foods, the same sorts of things he ate when the mouth sores were bad, so he didn't have to chew. And when he did chew, he did so only in the back. Mom brushed his teeth extra carefully to avoid knocking it loose. Despite his efforts, the tooth gradually relinquished its grip on his gums. Clint held his breath every time they went to clinic, waiting to hear how high his counts had risen.</p><p>The tooth fell out in the car on the way to clinic, and Clint instantly started crying. "It's okay," Mom assured. "You kept it in as long as you could."</p><p>"But what if my counts are still low? I don't wanna 'fection."</p><p>"Maybe they're up from last time. Is it bleeding badly?"</p><p>Clint stuck his tongue in the slot where his tooth had sat and didn't taste any blood. "I don't think so. It was hanging by a thread."</p><p>"That's good. It's gonna be fine."</p><p>Clint showed off his new gap to the nurse taking his blood. She congratulated him, but he could hear the consternation in her voice. Luckily, labs showed his counts had taken a leap in the right direction. She told them to rinse the gap with saltwater twice a day, but said he should be safe from an infection. Clint put the tooth under his pillow at home and woke up to a <em>five</em> dollar bill and a note from the Tooth Fairy saying she'd been waiting a long time for this particular tooth and was very excited to safely take it away. His parents were so excited and relieved that it turned out okay.</p><p>He did get an infection after his second lost tooth only a few months later, despite using all the same strategies to keep it in as long as possible until his counts bounced back. Those were some of the worst days.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Quietest Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott didn't feel up to walking to the common room, so Clint sat at the foot of his bed and they played cards together. Mr. Lang's phone rang and he picked it up to talk to whoever had called. "Hello?"</p><p>"Do you have any eights?" Scott asked him.</p><p>"Go fish. Do you have any aces?"</p><p>"Go fish." He kept speaking after that, but with Mr. Lang's phone conversation going on at the same time Clint couldn't quite make out what he said.</p><p>"Can you say that again?" Clint asked.</p><p>"Do you have any kings?"</p><p>"Yes." He handed over his two kings. Before they could continue the game, Mr. Lang interrupted them and told Scott the phone was actually for him.</p><p>"Who is it?" Scott asked.</p><p>"I'll let him say." Mr. Lang put it on speaker and held out the phone. "La Cucaracha" blared from its tiny speaker and Scott's eyes instantly brightened.</p><p>"He really came to visit?"</p><p>"Yes he did. He's parking the van and then he'll be on his way up."</p><p>"Who?" Clint asked.</p><p>"My dad's friend Luis. He's the best."</p><p>"Can I meet him?"</p><p>"Of course!" His energy suddenly returned, Scott practically bounded out of bed and walked with his dad to the elevator to greet Luis. Clint tagged along, eager to meet this person that Scott claimed was the best. He thought they'd agreed earlier that Steve was the best, but he was open to a change of opinion. A few minutes later, the doors opened and a man stepped out.</p><p>"Scotty!" he exclaimed, crouching down and opening his arms as Scott barreled into him.</p><p>"Luis! I knew it was you when Daddy played your van's horn on the phone."</p><p>"If you were on the first floor, I would have just pulled up outside your window and blasted the horn."</p><p>"That would be funny."</p><p>"How have you been buddy?" Luis made a motion like he intended to ruffle Scott's hair, but since he was bald it looked more like an affectionate pat.</p><p>Scott shrugged. "Okay. Clint's here, so it's not so bad."</p><p>"Hi Clint," Luis greeted. "I'm Luis."</p><p>"Scott says you're the best." Clint crossed his arms. "Prove it."</p><p>"Scotty, you said that? You're really setting his expectations high, aren't you."</p><p>"Tell us a story!"</p><p>"Okay, okay, which one do you want to hear?"</p><p>"A new one!"</p><p>"Okay. Let me think." He placed a hand thoughtfully on his chin and stared off into space for a few moments. "Okay, I got it. So one time, me and my cousin Ignacio were at this hotel, right? We were there for a family reunion, but you could hardly even call it a family reunion because my dad got deported the year before, and my mom wasn't living anymore, so it was really just me and Ignacio and a few other cousins. And this was right before my other cousin Ernesto's wedding. And he invited a bunch of his friends who weren't even part of the family to come. Oh, wait a second, this wasn't a family reunion. It was a bachelor party."</p><p>Luis spoke with such speed and ferocity that Clint had trouble keeping up. Scott, however, stared up at him in wide-eyed fascination, hanging onto every word.</p><p>"Anyway, we're all chilling at the pool, right? Only my cousin's friend was like, 'It's getting late, we should probably all go shower before dinner.' And everyone else was like, 'Okay.' So I went upstairs to my room and Ignacio went next door. And then I hopped in the shower and I was just like, vibing in the shower getting all the chlorine out of my hair. I can't stand the smell, when chlorine lingers in your hair, so I was taking an extra long time to wash it all out.</p><p>"So I'm vibing in the shower, and the fire alarm goes off. And I'm like, 'What am I supposed to do now?' I didn't want to burn to death, but I also didn't want to get out of the shower because it was warm in there, right? But I figure being a little chilly is better than dying, so I get out of the shower and walk out the door in nothing but a towel. Because who has time to get dressed when the building might be on fire, right? Turns out, Ignacio was in the same situation I was in.</p><p>"And we were on the sixth floor of this hotel, so the two of us in nothing but our towels start bounding down the stairs to escape the burning building. Luckily, this was in summer, so we didn't freeze to death when we got outside, but it was super awkward, you know? Because there were a bunch of old people dressed up for their early bird dinners and we were just wearing towels."</p><p>"Did the fire trucks come?" Scott asked.</p><p>"No, it was actually a false alarm. So I could have totally finished my shower and not burned to death, but at least I got a good story out of it!"</p><p>"Wow." Clint had only understood maybe half of the story, but Luis's enthusiasm enthralled him. Scott urged him to come back to his room so they could play cards together, and Clint spent the rest of the day learning new games from Mr. Lang and Luis. He wasn't sure he was willing to depose Steve from his title, but he decided he and Luis could share the title of best hospital company.</p><p>~0~</p><p>A few months later, Clint was at home recuperating between rounds of treatment. It was a pretty long break, but he had to go back to Gravesen in a few days. "Clint, turn that down please. I need to take this call," Mom said. With a sigh, Clint lowered the volume on the TV. He'd only had it up high enough so that he could hear it, and now he couldn't even decipher the words that they were saying. Listening out for Mom's phone conversation in the next room, he couldn't make out any of that either. It was just a low buzz in his ears. That buzz's frequency increased tenfold when Mom hung up and he saw the look on her face.</p><p>Clint recognized that look. It was the same look she got when she announced what the next phase of treatment would look like. His heart sank even more when she made him turn off the TV before they started talking. And then she hugged him, long and hard as if he might float away if she let go. This must be bad.</p><p>"There's no easy way to say this, sweetheart," she began. "Scott's been really sick, and he passed away earlier today."</p><p>Clint heard her loud and clear, but the words didn't make any sense. Scott? Dead? Those two concepts couldn't exist concurrently. Mommy wrapped her arms around him again, and Clint nestled in as close to her as possible. This couldn't be possible. Scott was sick the same way he was, and <em>he</em> wasn't dead. Well, not yet.</p><p>"Mommy, does that mean I'm gonna die too?" he asked.</p><p>"No, sweetie," she assured.</p><p>"B-but I'm sick too."</p><p>"Neuroblastoma is never exactly the same for two people. Sometimes it just fights a little harder."</p><p>"Why did Scott's fight harder than mine?" Clint didn't understand how his best friend, who fought harder and with more spunk than Clint ever could, lost to cancer. If he couldn't beat it, how could Clint even stand a chance, especially without him fighting by his side? The idea of going to Gravesen for treatment without Scott there to distract and support him was so horrific Clint wanted to throw up. He knew he had treatment in only a few days.</p><p>"I don't know, Clint. I wish I could tell you the reason, but the truth is I don't know."</p><p>"I don't want to fight cancer by myself." When the tears started, Clint didn't know, but he didn't foresee them stopping anytime soon. His entire body wanted to cry, but the only part that actually could were his eyes. Everything physically hurt, and Clint clung to Mommy even tighter, hoping her embrace could take some of the pain away.</p><p>"You're not alone," she assured him, running a comforting hand across his back. "You've got me and Dad, and Steve when he's there."</p><p>"I want <em>Scott</em>," he sobbed. He could feel Mommy start crying too, her entire body shuddering. She started to rock him back and forth like a baby. Any other time, Clint would've been embarrassed and squirmed away, but not today. Today, he needed that security even more than a helpless infant. Clint had thought he knew pain, between the all-encompassing, fatiguing ache of chemo and the stabbing aftermath of being cut open and sewn back together minus most of a tumor, but none of those even compared to this agony. At least with all of those instances, he'd endured with the knowledge that the next dose of meds would ease his suffering and that every round of treatment would inevitably end and he could go back some semblance of normal. There was no medicine for this kind of pain. No end of the cycle and returning to normal. A world without Scott could never feel normal.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Dr. Potts let him delay treatment by two days so he and his parents could go to Scott's funeral. Mr. Lang and Luis both gave Clint extra long hugs. Clint could tell they'd both been crying earlier. He gazed to the casket beside them and whispered, "I'll miss you, Scotty." They sat down in one of the middle rows and waited for the service to begin. Clint had to focus really hard to hear all the eulogies that were given. Mr. Lang talked about his son's youthful optimism through the toughest battle. "Scott's strength carried me through the hardest days of my life, and it was my privilege to lend my strength to him in the last days of his. And I thank you all for lending your strength to me in the difficult days ahead."</p><p>Instead of flowers, Clint left a pen he'd nabbed from the central nurses' desk at Gravesen last time he was there. He'd never seen Scott more proud of himself than when he completed his week-long burglary streak without getting caught. Evidently, even a seasoned thief couldn't prevent cancer from stealing his life right out from under his nose.</p><p>Clint had never liked treatment, but having Scott at Gravesen with him had at least made it bearable. When he showed up this time, there was no Scott, but there was a Steve. But Clint didn't want to talk to Steve because it would only remind him of the absence of the third member of their trio. He tuned out the world around him, which he found surprisingly easy, and just went through the motions of living every day. After chemo, they sent him to talk with Dr. Wilson about his feelings, but it didn't help all that much. Dr. Wilson couldn't bring Scott back. Nobody could.</p><p>He hadn't noticed the world around him growing gradually quieter over the past year. But it made sense for a world without Scott to sound dull and meaningless.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Clint woke up unusually early on a Saturday morning and headed downstairs still in his pajamas to watch TV, glad to be waking up at home and not Gravesen. Going there had just become miserable since Scott died. He quickly found the channel that ran Spongebob reruns on weekend mornings. Mom was in the kitchen getting a head start on that night's dinner.</p><p>Clint turned the volume up a bit to drown out the background noise of the kitchen, but even when he hit the loudest volume he was allowed to use he still couldn't really make out what the characters were saying. And then of course Mom told him to turn it back down because it was too loud. Frustrated, Clint just tried to keep his attention on the show and ignore the kitchen noise. He even moved to a different seat on the couch because it was closer to the speaker. It didn't help.</p><p>Clint knew there was a way to make words appear on the screen like a script so people could read along instead of listening, but he didn't know how to get to them. "Mommy, how do I get the words on the screen?" he asked.</p><p>"Can this wait until I'm done?"</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>She finished up whatever task she was doing before she came into the living room and asked what he needed.</p><p>He held out the remote to her and explained, "I want to put the words up on the screen."</p><p>"The words? What do you mean?"</p><p>"The words telling you what the people are saying."</p><p>"Closed captions?"</p><p>"Is that what they're called? Yeah, those." He wiggled the remote insistently.</p><p>"Why do you want them?"</p><p>"Because I can't hear it with you in the kitchen."</p><p>"I wasn't being that noisy, Clint," she said, starting to sound worried.</p><p>"Noisy enough that I couldn't hear," he said with a shrug. "Can our TV do the closed captions or not?"</p><p>"Yes it can, let me show you." She clicked a few buttons and showed him how to turn them on. Clint went back to his show and could finally follow the dialogue.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>"Is this the first time you've had trouble hearing something?" she asked.</p><p>Clint shrugged. "Not really. Sometimes if I get distracted while I'm talking to someone I'll miss something. Or if multiple people are talking at once. But I can hear you right now."</p><p>"Okay." Mom picked the phone back up and went all the way upstairs to make a phone call. Clint wondered who she was talking to, but he didn't much care now that he had cartoons to watch and she was too far away for him to hear her conversation.</p><p>He found out who she'd been talking to only two days later when she took him to a doctor's appointment. Clint had been <em>told</em> that he had a month off of treatment, which he'd thought meant no appointments, but apparently they changed their minds. Mom had to drag him out the door because he didn't want to go. Doctor's appointments always included at least something painful.</p><p>"I promise this is a different kind of doctor," she told him. "No pokes."</p><p>"I don't believe you," he spat. She'd used that lie multiple times and they almost always ended up poking him anyway.</p><p>"They're just going to test your hearing and give us advice on how to help it."</p><p>"I can hear fine."</p><p>"No you can't, sweetheart, and we need to find out just what's wrong so we can fix it."</p><p>Clint ultimately lost this fight and ended up in the car despite his protestations. He fought the urge to cry the entire way there, terrified that Mom was lying to him and he was about to get poked or scanned or something equally as horrible. The waiting room at this new doctor looked much the same as every one he'd ever been in before, which did nothing to assuage his fear. He gave up on being mad at Mom and held her hand for comfort. The urge to cry grew stronger and stronger until they actually met the doctor, an audiologist, and he explained what was going to happen.</p><p>All Clint had to do was put on headphones and raise his hand when he heard a beep. Then he'd hear a few short sentences and he'd have to try and repeat them. Mom hadn't lied after all; there were no pokes involved. Clint sat in this little room and wore the headphones, listening closely for the beeps. He heard a bunch at the beginning, raising his left or right hand to indicate which ear detected the sound, but eventually they stopped playing so many and he only raised his hand occasionally. The sentences part was relatively easy until they switched on background noise in the room. He couldn't pick out the words coming from the headphones with all the other sounds flooding his ears, but he tried his best to say back what he thought he heard.</p><p>When it was over, the doctor and Mom both thanked him for being such a great patient. "That was nothing. I wish all doctor's appointments were that easy." Mom looked sad when he said that, but Clint didn't know why. She looked even sadder when the doctor showed her a bunch of papers with weird dots and lines on them.</p><p>"These are all the pitches he can't hear," the doctor explained. Clint peered at where his pen was pointing and saw a bunch of dots. "Ototoxicity is a known side effect of some of the chemos he's on, so I also recommend talking to his oncologist. They might want to adjust future treatments to avoid causing his hearing to worsen further."</p><p>"What can we do?"</p><p>"I'm afraid the damage can't be undone, but it can be mediated with hearing aids." They spent a long time talking about future plans and a bunch of other boring stuff, so Clint tuned them out. It was pretty easy for him to not listen to a conversation if he didn't want to. Unless he focused on the words, they just kind of faded into indecipherable noise. Then he realized he hadn't always been able to do that.</p><p>Clint's break from treatment and appointments quickly morphed into a series of visits with the audiologist to fit him for hearing aids. While it certainly beat chemo or radiation, he didn't particularly enjoy it. The doctor spent ages poking around his ears with lights and tools, and then he squirted them full of a weird sticky substance to make molds of his ear canals. The first time he tried on his hearing aids, Clint didn't immediately notice a difference, but that was because they hadn't been programmed yet. Using a combination of his hearing test results and Clint's feedback in real time, the audiologist programmed them to function properly and make up for his deficit.</p><p>"Now, it might be overwhelming at first because suddenly everything's louder and background noises are more in focus," he told him. "It's best to start wearing them only sometimes, on a schedule, so you can gradually adjust to having more normal hearing, okay?"</p><p>"Okay." They also went over a bunch of things like changing the batteries, cleaning them, and adjusting the volume. Clint wanted to wear them on the way home, but instantly regretted that decision the second they stepped out of the audiologist's office. All the cars on the nearby road were so <em>loud</em> and his brain felt assaulted by dozens of different sounds that it hadn't picked up since whenever his hearing started to go bad. He slammed his hands over his ears and kept them there until they were in the car.</p><p>"Off. I want them off," he stated. "I did <em>not</em> like that."</p><p>"You can take them off, Clint," Mom said calmly. Clint pulled the devices off of his ears and handed them off to her. "Remember, it's going to take a while to get used to them. You're going to wear them a little bit more every day until it feels normal."</p><p>"I don't want to. I hate them."</p><p>"You won't hate them if you just give them a chance. Wearing them outside first was probably a bad idea. How about when we get home and it's quiet, you try them for an hour and if you still don't like them you can take them off again. Deal?"</p><p>"Deal."</p><p>Dad was still at work, so it was mostly quiet at home. Clint wore the aids while he played with toys in the living room and didn't really notice a difference other than things were a bit louder. But when Mom washed her hands in the kitchen, he did hear the water running. That was new. An hour elapsed and Clint decided to keep them on. He ended up wearing them until Dad got home two and a half hours later. Two sets of footsteps in the house proved just a little more than he was willing to handle at this point.</p><p>By the time his next round of treatment arrived, he could wear them all day long. He didn't need subtitles on the TV anymore, even when Mom was making noise in the kitchen. Adjusting to the sounds of birdsong and busy roads had taken a while, but Clint managed, as he always did. He just hoped treatment would be over soon so he could stop worrying about losing more of his hearing. They'd discussed it with Dr. Potts, and she said changing the treatment course to preserve his hearing was riskier than continuing at its possible expense. So, in all likelihood, Clint would have to get reevaluated and get new hearing aids later on to adjust for an additional deficit. Great.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I simply could not pass up the opportunity for a story including Scott Lang without having Luis pop in for some classic Luis-style storytelling :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lucky Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter has very little to do with good fortune...so why is that the title? :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every time one tumor shrank, another popped up somewhere else. That was the general trend that had haunted Clint through every year of his cancer journey so far. Apparently, neuroblastoma could often be unpredictable like that, which was why it took so long to treat. Now that he was old enough to understand their weight, Clint started dreading scans for more reasons than just drinking yucky CT contrast. He knew that whatever they found in his body would dictate the next course of treatment. This time, they found a new spot at the base of his skull, a big spot. And they wanted to shrink it with radiation before removing it surgically. Clint decidedly did <em>not</em> like the sound of that.</p><p>As it turned out, the reality of radiation treatment was even worse than he feared.</p><p>It didn't start out all the bad. First, they just had to make the mask that would hold his head still for the duration of treatment and provide reference points for aiming the beams of radiation. They explained it would feel just like a warm towel being draped over his face, and they weren't wrong. Clint just laid there while they let the mesh conform to the shape of his face and marked it in all the necessary places. It was over in minutes.</p><p>Then he actually had to put the mask to use, and that what a whole different ball game. It locked his head down to a table and prevented him from moving even slightly. Clint, who was described as fidgety by almost everyone who'd ever spent longer than ten minutes with him, couldn't stand it. He asked if they could just put him to sleep so he didn't have to do it, but they said no, that he had to stay still himself.</p><p>Clint hated every second of it. It took ages for them to position everything, check it, reposition, check it again, and actually start the treatment. The radiation itself only lasted about fifteen minutes, but Clint had the entire hour or so of waiting and being positioned beforehand to get nervous about it, and by the time they were ready to actually irradiate his skull he was nearly in tears. He went every afternoon Monday through Friday, with the weekends off, for five weeks. And it only got worse with each passing treatment.</p><p>The skin on the back of his head turned red and started peeling incessantly, like a sunburn but worse. It hurt constantly and Clint figured out the connection between more radiation treatments and more discomfort pretty quickly, which only fueled his desire not to go. The last two weeks, Dad often had to bodily carry him into the car and into the room because he outright refused to go willingly.</p><p>After radiation, he had another surgery to remove the radiation-shrunken tumor from the base of his skull. It left a scar from the nape of his neck halfway to the crown of his head. Clint begged Mom for days to show him a picture of it because he couldn't see the back of his own head. She finally relented, and Clint stared at the mark, transfixed by its size. It wasn't quite as big as the long-healed scar across his abdomen, but still formidable. "At least when my hair grows back it'll cover it."</p><p>~0~</p><p>A few months after getting his first hearing aids, Clint told his parents he wanted to learn sign language. "I can hear with these, but there are some people can't and I want to be able to talk to them," he explained. "Also, in case my hearing ever gets worse, it will be easier to learn before that."</p><p>"That's very sweet of you," Dad said. "But I have an even better idea. How about we learn it together?"</p><p>Clint's eyes lit up. While learning to sign was something he wanted to do, he knew it would be hard and possibly even boring at times, especially doing it all by himself. Having Dad learn it with him and help him practice would make the entire experience way more fun. And then they could sign secret conversations at the dinner table without Mommy knowing.</p><p>Because of cancer, Clint already did all of school from home or from Gravesen. Dad enrolled them in an online course. Every day when Dad got home from work, they watched a lesson for half an hour and then took several quizzes covering the material they'd learned that day and some signs from previous weeks. After that, they practiced with each other for a little bit, and sometimes a little bit before bed too. Clint had never learned another language before, but he found sign language endlessly fascinating. It was almost like a dance with choreography that spelled out a message.</p><p>They kept it up for months, mutually reminding each other to do the day's lesson whenever one forgot or lost motivation. Clint didn't know anybody who was deaf or hearing impaired, so he only ever got to practice with Dad. His own hearing was decent enough that he didn't think he'd need anyone to sign for him to understand unless he found himself in a noisy room without his hearing aids. However, his efforts soon proved worth it.</p><p>When Clint returned to Gravesen for his next round of treatment after radiation and surgery for the spot in his skull, Steve wasn't there. Disappointed and lonely, he sequestered himself in his room and attempted to take a nap to make the time pass faster. Just as he started to drift off, Nurse Sharon came in to ask him if he wanted to participate in therapy dog day. Clint had visited with dogs here before, and he enjoyed their company more than anyone else's at Gravesen—except for Scott and Steve, of course, but neither of them were an option right now.</p><p>"Who's here today?" he asked. They cycled through so many dogs that he didn't really remember their names.</p><p>"We have a new friend today," Sharon explained. "His name is Lucky."</p><p>Clint bounded into the common room and discovered a radiant golden retriever awaiting him. Already petting the dog sat a raven-haired girl around his age. Having never met this girl before, Clint introduced himself as he joined her beside Lucky. "Hi. I'm Clint."</p><p>She glanced up at him and smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kate."</p><p>"Are you new here?"</p><p>"This is my first day," she said shyly.</p><p>"I must not have heard you move in. Welcome to Gravesen."</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>"If you want, I can show you around the ward later. My friend Steve usually does it, but he's not here right now."</p><p>"Okay. That sounds good. Thank you."</p><p>"You're welcome."</p><p>The conversation ceased for a few moments as Lucky flopped over on his side and wagged his tail in bliss. Clint found a sweet spot on his shoulder that the dog seemed to really like.</p><p>"So, what are you here for?" he asked. "If you're okay telling me."</p><p>"Cancer," she sighed.</p><p>"Me too. I have neuroblastoma."</p><p>"That's the same kind I have."</p><p>"Yeah? Any pointers?" she asked with a sigh.</p><p>"Always expect the plan to change," Clint said immediately. It was crazy how many times he and his parents had been told he'd get this treatment at this time only for a change in his blood counts or a new spot on his scans to make his team throw those plans out the window and start from scratch.</p><p>"That's…reassuring."</p><p>"I'm sorry I can't offer you anything more positive. Look forward to experiences like this: petting dogs and making new friends." Maybe he was being a little forward calling them friends, but it seemed like the right thing to say. It seemed like something Steve would say.</p><p>"Okay." She smiled again. They spent the next half an hour playing with Lucky, who brought his favorite toy with him—a stuffed piece of pizza. Clint laughed until he was breathless watching Kate tug on the crust while Lucky kept the other end clasped firmly in his mouth. It looked like he'd stolen her dinner and she was trying desperately to get it back. When Lucky left, a woman who must've been Kate's mother walked into the common room to tell her it was time to meet with Dr. Potts again. She had a strange accent that Clint couldn't quite place.</p><p>"Who's this?" she asked.</p><p>"This is Clint," Kate said. He watched, mesmerized, as she signed everything she said while speaking.</p><p>"You know ASL?" he asked, dumbfounded.</p><p>Kate nodded. "My mother is deaf, so I've known it since I could talk."</p><p>"You're much better at it than I am," Clint said. He attempted to sign as he spoke, but he could tell he got a lot of it wrong. Dad hadn't practiced with him in a few weeks, and he'd only been studying the language for a year or so.</p><p>"You sign?"</p><p>"Yeah." Clint turned his head and tapped the aid perched behind his ear. "I can hear pretty well with these, but there's a chance I might need more of the chemo that damaged my hearing in the first place, so I thought it would be smart to learn before I lost any more."</p><p>"That is smart. Plus, it's just a good language to know." Kate's mother waved at her more insistently. "Sorry, I've got to go. We should hang out again sometime."</p><p>"Yeah, for sure. Do you think you could help me practice my signing? My dad usually does it with me, but he's been too busy the past few weeks."</p><p>"Okay. Sounds good. Can you meet me in the chemo clinic tomorrow?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Great. Bye, Clint." She waved as she met her mother at the door and exited the common room.</p><p>"Bye Kate."</p><p>Steve might not be here, but at least Clint had somebody to keep him company.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Clint convinced Nurse Sharon to let him take his platelet infusion in the chemo clinic instead of his room so he could keep Kate company. It was her first dose and he knew how terrifying that could be. Having Scott there had helped him immensely, and he wanted to be there for her. "How long after this started did your hair fall out?" she asked after Nurse Jane got her set up and ready to go.</p><p>"It was such a long time ago that I barely remember. I think it was about two weeks when it started. By a month it was all gone."</p><p>"Okay." She twirled a strand of her long black hair between her fingers as if savoring it while it was still here. "I think I'm going to have my mom cut it short before that happens." She turned to her mother in the armchair beside her and asked in sign, "Will you cut my hair tomorrow?"</p><p>Yes, her mother signed sadly. Clint's own mother had been sad when his hair fell out, he could only imagine it was harder for someone with longer hair. They quickly moved on from the hair discussion and instead he and Kate told her mom stories about playing with Lucky yesterday. Clint loved the opportunity to practice his ASL, and Kate taught him lots of new vocabulary that he hadn't known. He told Mrs. Bishop that his dad could sign about as well as he could, and he promised they could talk next time Dad was here. Co-parenting kids with cancer was an unmatchable bonding experience for adults; his parents both still spoke to Mr. Lang regularly, and he knew meeting them would help Kate's mom and dad through this.</p><p>He could tell when she started to feel side effects. It was just as unpleasant to watch as it was to experience it himself. As happy as he was to have company, Clint wished Kate didn't have to be here. After an hour and a half, they both fell asleep in their chairs.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Clint threw another dart that stuck in the middle of the target. He took a step back and threw another. He wished he was back home with his archery target; darts was a poor substitute for the feel of his bow in his hand and the string beneath his fingertips. Watching Kate start chemo yesterday and embark on the same journey he'd begun nearly three years ago hurt him in ways even the worst of cancer treatment never could.</p><p>"Can I play?" The question startled him right as he threw a dart, and he missed the center. By a lot. Clint hadn't missed that badly in ages. He chose not to wear his hearing aids to play because he could focus better without distraction, so he hadn't heard her enter the room.</p><p>"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he said sheepishly. He gathered all the darts from the target and handed her half. She scrutinized him as she accepted them and immediately put them aside on a table.</p><p>"Do you want me to sign?" she asked aloud, signing as she went.</p><p>"Sure. Thanks." Being able to focus on watching her hands and not the sound of her voice would tax him a lot less. "You can go first. By the way, I love your haircut." Just as she asked yesterday, her mom had cut it to about half of its original length. "And I think you'll look just as good bald."</p><p>"Thanks. Which rules are we playing by?"</p><p>"Just shoot straight," Clint said. "No fancy math." Honestly, he never played darts by any of the many different actual sets of rules. It either involved getting as close to a given number without going over or hitting all the different point sections in order. He found it much easier and more relaxing to just try and hit the bullseye.</p><p>Clint let Kate take the first turn, and she nailed the target right smack in the middle. "Beginner's luck?" she said with a shrug and a hint of a mischievous glint in her eye. Clint watched her suspiciously and took his own turn. Bullseye. Kate's eyes glazed over with determination. She threw another perfect shot. Clint knew immediately that he'd never faced a more formidable foe. He wondered if she practiced as much as he did or if she was just naturally gifted. Probably a combination of both. Nobody would be that good without practice.</p><p>"How long have you been playing?" Clint asked after five rounds. They were tied.</p><p>"I have a dartboard at home," she said. "So about three or four years. You?"</p><p>"When I'm home I do archery. I really only play darts when I'm here because I'm not allowed to bring my bow."</p><p>"Archery? Wow. Where'd you learn that?"</p><p>"My dad taught me. He almost went to the Olympics for it."</p><p>"That's cool. If you're as good at archery as you are at darts, you could go."</p><p>"You too."</p><p>"When this whole cancer thing is over maybe I'll give archery a shot." She giggled as she realized what she just said. "No pun intended."</p><p>Clint laughed, but it was hollow. The phrase, "When this whole cancer thing is over," hurt him deeply. This whole cancer thing was supposed to be over for him, but it kept dragging onward endlessly. He didn't want the same thing to happen to Kate. He certainly didn't want her to end up like Scott.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Kate didn't end up like Scott. Quite the opposite, actually. Clint saw her at Gravesen periodically over the next two years, for chemo and antibody infusions. They practiced Clint's signing, played tug-of-war with Lucky and his pizza toy, and endured many more rounds of darts together, but could never declare which of them was better. Every time Kate hit a winning streak of two or three rounds, Clint hit a winning streak and evened it up again. Eventually, when Kate entered remission, they gave up trying to compete with each other and accepted that they were equally matched. Despite his elation for her treatment succeeding in eliminating her cancer, Clint couldn't help the spike of jealousy that drove itself through him. He'd been in treatment for almost five years now and still hadn't achieved remission. Kate had done it in just two. She might not have officially bested him at darts, but she was evidently a better cancer fighter than he was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've never read any of the comic books, so I built this GCU Kate Bishop on my minimal research. I can't wait to meet MCU Kate in the Hawkeye series.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Glory Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's Carol content time! Since Clint was the first to meet her of anyone at Gravesen, and since this is the last prequel to have her in it, I took this opportunity to explore a bit of a different side of her character. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint met Carol before anyone else in the group—even before Steve. She showed up on the tail end of his last infusion for a treatment cycle, freshly diagnosed and contemplating the reality of living out the foreseeable future within the walls of this hospital. As she moved her stuff in, Clint periodically peeked his head out of his door and looked down the hallway to watch. He should go over and say hi. That's what Steve would do. Steve would head over at the first opportunity and show her around the ward, just like he'd done for Clint and Scott. But Clint didn't have that same confidence, and the girl was at least five years his senior. She might not even want to listen to a word he said.</p><p>Then Clint thought about how scared he'd been his first day here, surrounded by unfamiliar walls and machines. No matter how old he was, he would've appreciated someone taking the time to try and put him at ease. By the time he worked up the courage to go and say hi, the two men who helped her move in had left and he could hear loud music blaring from her room—so loud he could make it out clearly even without his hearing aids. He put them back on and walked down the hall toward her room. The door wasn't completely closed, but he still knocked. No response came, but she probably couldn't hear him over the music. So, he just peeked his head in.</p><p>She was crying. That much was clear. But the instant she saw Clint she gasped and frantically tried to rub her eyes dry. After shutting off the music, she asked hoarsely, "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"I just wanted to say hi," he said guiltily. He should've known better than to just walk in. "I'm Clint, your neighbor."</p><p>"Hey Clint. Sorry about this," she gestured to her face. "My dad's just being an asshole."</p><p>"Did he hurt you?" Clint asked, wondering if that was why she was in the hospital. He looked at her for signs of injury or abuse, but found none, just the edge of a heart monitor pad sticking out from the neckline of her shirt.</p><p>"Not physically, no. I'm fine," she assured. Clint didn't believe that. Nobody was fine in a residential ward of a hospital, especially not on the first day. If he had eyebrows, he would've furrowed them suspiciously. As it stood, he just crossed his arms and inclined his head. "It's nothing. He just doesn't like who I'm dating and not-very-subtly suggested that it poisoned my heart and that's why it's failing."</p><p>"That's horrible," he said bluntly.</p><p>"Yeah. As far as I'm concerned, he's the one with the poisoned heart. So, what are you in for?"</p><p>"Cancer. We've been dating for six years now. Now that's something that will actually poison your heart."</p><p>"Yikes. I'm so sorry."</p><p>"I'm used to it. But thank you. What's your name?"</p><p>"Carol. Carol Danvers. It's nice to know I'm not the only one stuck here. Are there…things to do? Besides sit around and feel sorry for ourselves?"</p><p>"Yeah, for sure. Follow me." He led her to the common room and let her explore. Clint pulled out the much-used dartboard and set it up across the room. While Carol looked through things, he started throwing.</p><p>"You're pretty good at that, Hawkeye, " Carol remarked. Clint had been so focused he didn't notice her watching him.</p><p>He blushed at the nickname. Mom called his dad that sometimes, usually right before they kissed each other. "Thanks. I've gotten lots of practice over the past few years."</p><p>"Up for a challenge?"</p><p>"Sure." Clint handed her half the darts and they started taking turns. Carol wasn't abysmal, but she was no Kate. "So, your dad sounds like a jerk. But who was that other guy with you moving in?"</p><p>"That's my brother. He's cool, but he's not exactly willing to argue with my dad. I think he's afraid of upsetting him."</p><p>"Are you?"</p><p>"Hell no. I don't give a shit what that bastard thinks about me." Her gaze hardened and the next dart she threw with much more force. Clint had heard all the words before, but he was a little surprised that someone would openly swear in front of someone as young as him. He respected her for it. It was obvious she needed to vent after whatever he said to her.</p><p>"Do you have a mom?" Clint asked.</p><p>"Yeah. But she's deployed right now. Air Force."</p><p>"Okay. Does she agree with your dad?"</p><p>"No. She's great, but she's not going to force him to change his mind or anything. Since she's away so often, she entrusts him with parenting and all that."</p><p>"I'm sorry. That sounds like a tough situation."</p><p>"Frankly, I'm kind of glad to be here so I can get away from him."</p><p>"Silver lining. You get really good at finding them when you're sick."</p><p>She glanced at him as he nailed yet another bullseye. "I'll bet. Is hours of darts practice one of your silver linings?"</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>Clint only spent two days with Carol before he got to go home. He hated to leave her here all alone, but she assured him she'd be fine. It was only a matter of time before someone else showed up. Treatment breaks always differed depending on what he was currently doing, and this time he got a month off before an outpatient trial thingy that lasted six months. At this point, Clint barely understood what the doctors were doing, but he went along with it because it had kept him alive this long. By the time he returned to Gravesen for another extended inpatient stay, it was <em>crowded</em>.</p><p>Carol was accompanied by Bruce, Thor, Quill, Parker, Bucky, Natasha and Nick. Clint got to know those last two pretty quickly. They were only a year or two older than him, and their schedules for school and for chemo lined up almost perfectly. Natasha reminded him so much of Scott, with a devious air about her but a sense of humor to match. And Nick, who Clint had met once years ago before his eye removal surgery, had the same dry pessimism that many relapsed—or, in Clint's case, chronic—cancer fighters possessed.</p><p>What surprised and pleased him the most was that Carol appeared to be the ringleader of them all. In those two weeks she spent with Steve after Clint's departure, he must've rubbed off on her. Steve came to visit them at least twice a week, and Clint looked forward to seeing him every time. He and Carol got along like a brother and sister, and Clint saw no trace of the anger and sadness that had clung to her when she first got here. Time away from her father and surrounded by people who respected and loved her must have really worked wonders.</p><p>One morning before chemo, Carol invited him and Natasha to the common room to play Catan with her and Parker. Of course, the first thing they did was all scramble for colors. Natasha took red, Parker blue, Clint white, and Carol orange. They set up the board with the hexes and numbers placed randomly, which always made for an interesting experience. It was also easier to blame bad luck instead of poor strategy, and it increased the stakes of the initial dice roll for settlement placement. Carol let Parker roll first.</p><p>"Yes!" he exclaimed. A nine would be hard to beat. From there, they proceeded clockwise. Carol rolled a mere seven, Natasha a ten. Parker was visibly disappointed he wouldn't be going first. She only smirked at him and passed the dice to Clint. He held his breath, hoping to beat her, but only rolled a nine. Natasha, as the highest roller, placed first, then Clint, Parker, and Carol. And then they reversed that order to place their second settlement-road pair.</p><p>"This is a risk, but screw it," Carol mumbled on her turn. She placed her first settlement on an eight wood with a three-for-one port, and her second on a five wheat and six brick. Clint had never seen a strategy like it. He ended up with one settlement on an eight wood, four sheep, and five brick and the other on a six wheat and eleven rock with a two-for-one wheat port. Not too shabby.</p><p>On Clint's first turn, he bought a development card which turned out to be a knight. He kept that in mind to rob the next person who pissed him off. Parker amassed an impressive number of cards for such an early stage in the game, but he clearly didn't have what he wanted. "Does anyone have a brick?"</p><p>"Who's asking?" Natasha questioned in an impressive impression of a mob boss.</p><p>"I am. Thought that was obvious." Parker put his cards back on the table and passed the dice to Carol. She asked for wood, and Parker gave her one in exchange for a wheat. Then she built a road towards one of Clint's settlements. Natasha rolled and spent a long time scrutinizing the board without doing anything. Then someone kicked Clint's shin under the table. He looked down and watched Nat sign under the table with one hand while holding her cards with the other. "A-L-I-A-N-C-E." Whenever they had chemo at the same time, they spent the duration of the infusion teaching each other ASL and Russian. Clint had taught her the entire alphabet in addition to a bunch of useful signs. She was pretty good at it, although she often made small spelling errors because the alphabet used for English words was as alien to her as the signs for said alphabet. She was basically learning two new languages at once, both of which used a new alphabet. It was amazing she picked it up as quickly as she did.</p><p>Clint moved a hand up to pretend to adjust his hearing aid and subtly signed, "Yes," with his fist on the way. She passed the dice to him. He traded Parker a brick for a wood and built a road pointing to the same intersection as Carol's. An idea blossomed in his head. If he and Nat worked together, they could trap Carol on her lonely wood hex, rendering her unable to build roads to new hexes in that area. While Parker took his turn, he got Nat's attention, spelled "T-R-A-P C-A-R-O-L under the table, and hoped she got the gist. She smiled at him and nodded.</p><p>"Parker, how do you have so many cards?" Carol asked. It was crazy. He had nearly twice as many as anyone else.</p><p>"I don't know, but I hope nobody rolls a seven. Does anyone have a rock they're willing to give me?"</p><p>"Nope," Carol said. Clint shook his head</p><p>'What do you have?" Natasha questioned.</p><p>"I'll give you a sheep."</p><p>She pondered this for a moment and proposed a counter offer. "Two sheep."</p><p>"Deal." Parker turned one of his settlements into a city with his trade. Nobody traded Carol wood when she asked, so she ended her turn without building. Natasha traded Parker a brick for a wood and built a road to start blocking Carol's other escape route. Clint subtly nodded his approval. Carol and Parker were oblivious to their plan.</p><p>Clint told Nat exactly what was in his hand by signing the resources' initials. S for sheep, B for brick, W for wheat, L for lumber/wood, and R for rock. She replied by telling him hers: two sheep, two brick, and three wheat. If he could somehow funnel her a wood, she could build a settlement on her next turn and prevent Carol from building in that direction. He decided to use his knight card to try and obtain a wood while also throwing Carol off their scent. He placed the robber on Parker's four wood and stole a card—and it was a wood! He offered to trade it for a wheat and Natasha gave him one.</p><p>Parker, the lucky duck, rolled a seven and immediately moved the robber off of his hex and onto one of Clint's. Fortunately, he only stole a wheat. Nothing important. Nat also rolled a seven on her turn, and by that time she had eight cards and had to surrender half of them. She still built the settlement, though, leaving her with no cards. Then Parker placed a road skirting around the desert.</p><p>Carol rolled a seven and froze a nine rock hex shared by Natasha and Parker. She used her port to trade in cards and bought a development card.</p><p>"Another six? Are you kidding me?" Parker exclaimed as Nat and Carol collected even more brick on the next turn. Clint used universal four-for-one maritime trade to obtain a wood, which he used to build a road and block Carol from her current path.</p><p>"How does that even benefit you?" Carol asked incredulously. She gazed at the board longer and only now noticed that Natasha's settlement happened to cut off the second of her three possible expansion routes.</p><p>"I want in on that rock access," he said.</p><p>"Nobody's even rolled a nine this whole game. Even if they did, it's frozen."</p><p>"For now," Clint said ominously. When Parker rolled the first eight of the game, Carol was distracted from her fixation on Clint's blockade as she collected wood. She built another road towards her last option for escaping the coastal wood hex. Clint tried not to smile devilishly. She must not have caught on to his and Nat's intentions, assuming he had actually wanted the rock and not just to cut her off. If she knew he was actively trying to stop her, she would have focused her efforts on building around her other settlement on the other side of the board.</p><p>Natasha built two roads heading toward other sheep access. Clint built his settlement on the frozen nine rock. Parker rolled a rare snake eyes; both Clint and Natasha collected sheep. Carol built another road, which put her only one road away from escaping. Clint needed two more to prevent it, but he didn't have any of the necessary cards. Carol also had an unplayed development card which could be something to help her build that road. Clint didn't know what to do. It was Nat's turn, but she was too far away on the board to help.</p><p>"Nine!" Parker exclaimed when she rolled. All three of them reached for the stack of rock cards, but Carol smacked their hands away.</p><p>She pointed to the robber on the hex. "Frozen, remember? That's my favorite hex right now."</p><p>"Why?" Clint asked. "You're not on it."</p><p>"Watching you three pout like toddlers because you didn't get your rocks is more fun than getting cards. I'm also thinking about how Rogers would love to point out that the three settlements on it are red, white, and blue."</p><p>"I still get cards," Parker boasted, pointing out the other nine on the board.</p><p>"Parker, can I have wood?" Nat asked.</p><p>"No. This is the first wood anyone's seen in ages. I'm not giving it away."</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>Parker built another settlement on his turn, taking the lead and finally gaining access to brick. Now it was Carol's turn. Another seven. She had to free the nine rock hex, and she moved it to a brick hex occupied by Clint and, as of last turn, Parker. She held a hand out to Parker and made a grabby motion.</p><p>"Why me?" he cried. "Clint's pissed you off like three times in this game."</p><p>"I know you have wood. Put 'em up."</p><p>Parker shuffled his hand and reluctantly fanned it out for Carol to choose from. She plucked a card out and grinned when she saw it. Then she built a road with her stolen wood, escaping Clint's trap. He tried to disguise his disappointment and think of another strategy. Parker was in the best position to cut her off, but Clint couldn't count on his cooperation.</p><p>Nat built another settlement to tie things up with Parker, and then it was Clint's turn again. He rolled another six and bought another development card, a knight he saved for later. Parker built a road in the right direction to eventually block Carol.</p><p>"Wait—I have Longest Road," Carol announced before rolling.</p><p>"Took you long enough," Natasha huffed.</p><p>Carol took the piece of cardboard, worth enough victory points to tie her for the lead with Nat and Parker. Clint was behind by one. While Carol took her turn, Nat signed under the table, "L-O-N-G-E-S-T R-O-D M-E."</p><p>Clint looked at the board and saw if she connected her two settlements, she'd easily take it. Clint was the only one in a position to prevent her from doing so. Well, Parker also could, but based on his last turn he was focused elsewhere. Clint signed back, "I N-O B-L-O-C-K."</p><p>Carol rolled another seven and at this point it was obvious she was in all-out war against Parker for some reason. She froze a hex only he occupied.</p><p>"Would anyone just…give me a card?" she asked. "For free?"</p><p>"I just did," Parker grumbled, referring to the one she just stole. On his next turn he asked, "Anyone have a brick? I'll give you sheep."</p><p>"I do not need sheep," Nat said. "You have rock?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>Carol rolled yet another seven and moved the robber to another Parker only hex.</p><p>"At this point you're just straight up evil," he grumbled as she stole another card from him. Then Carol played a development card for two free resources and built a settlement, her first of the game.</p><p>"Finally," she muttered.</p><p>Clint played his second knight card and froze a five wheat shared by Carol and Parker. He stole a card from Carol and got a much-needed wood. Then he built two roads in a further attempt to encircle Carol and pin her against the coastline.</p><p>"What the fuck, Barton?"</p><p>He had no excuse this time, so he just shrugged. Natasha snickered. But Clint forgot that Parker had been headed that direction too. Now he had two enemies and only one ally.</p><p>"Parker, can you trade me a brick?" Carol asked.</p><p>"Sorry, I don't have one."</p><p>"Natasha?"</p><p>She shook her head. Carol settled for building only one road. Clearly, she was invested in beating Clint's trap, because she ignored the other settlement she had with plenty of open paths around it. Natasha rolled a six and under the table promised Clint, in as few words as possible since spelling took forever, that she'd trade him whatever he needed to build the final road that would seal Carol away. Clint traded her a wheat for a brick and built said road on his turn.</p><p>Carol threw down her hand. "What did I do to deserve this?"</p><p>Natasha and Clint couldn't contain their giggles. Even Parker seemed amused, trying to hide his smile behind his fanned-out hand of cards. On his turn he built another road, and on Carol's she rolled another seven. She immediately smacked the robber onto the red, white, and blue rock hex so hard that all the pieces around it shifted.</p><p>"Show me your cards, Barton." She took a wheat, which he didn't care about since he had two more, then she finally resorted to building a road off her other settlement. Natasha asked for rock, but no one had any. This entire game, rock and wood had been the hardest to come by. Clint rolled a nine, which would have produced a ton of rocks if Carol hadn't just frozen it. She didn't even try to muffle her teasing, "Ha!"</p><p>Parker agreed to give Clint one of the three woods he just obtained in exchange for a brick, so Clint built a settlement. Parker regretted that trade because now he couldn't build on that hex—it was too close. Then he rolled a seven and froze a hex shared by Clint and Carol. Clint thought for sure Parker would steal from him because of what he'd just done, but he went for Carol instead.</p><p>"Haven't I suffered enough?" she sighed.</p><p>"No," Nat said abruptly.</p><p>"What she said," Parker continued. Nat rolled an eight and reaped the sole benefits because the other one was frozen by the robber. She traded Clint a wood for a sheep and turned in two stacks of four-of-a-kind in exchange for two rocks. Carol rolled yet another seven, re-froze the nine rock, and stole from Clint.</p><p>"You've rolled a seven almost every turn. It's like the dice know you're in a spiteful mood," Clint remarked.</p><p>"Spiteful? Barton, you'd better hope you never see me in a spiteful mood," she said threateningly. Clint laughed. He traded with Nat for a wood and built two roads around the coast of a six wheat hex. Carol asked for a brick that she didn't get, then a wood that she did get from Parker in exchange for a wheat. It must've been out of pity, because Clint knew Parker already had a shit ton of wheat. She built a road and a settlement on another three-for-one port, basically the only location she could reach without building a ridiculous number of roads.</p><p>Then Natasha had a hell of a turn. She rolled a rare eleven, earning herself two bricks. Then she built a city from cards she'd been holding onto for several rounds and three roads all at once, connecting her two roads and overtaking Carol for longest road by five. Carol muttered some phrases under her breath that Clint couldn't hear from across the table, but he really wished he could. He signed, "N-I-C-E J-O-B," under the table.</p><p>"T-H-X."</p><p>Clint bought a development card hoping for a third knight so he could take largest army next time, but he got a victory point instead. He kept it face down in front of him. Parker built another settlement, his third touching the useless desert hex in the middle. Carol rolled a nine, much to everyone's delight but hers. Parker just unfroze the nine rock last turn, so all three of them got some. Carol handed the dice off to Natasha without a word. Several turns passed without incident, though Clint did pick up and play a third knight card, putting him at seven points. To win, he needed ten. Natasha had nine.</p><p>She won a few turns later, trading in two bricks for a rock, which gave her the last card she needed for a city. That put her at ten victory points. Clint still had a mere seven, Parker five, and Carol also five.</p><p>"Good game," Parker conceded.</p><p>"Thank you," Natasha said.</p><p>"At what point in the game did you and Clint decide to team up?" Carol asked.</p><p>"Maybe the first or second round," Clint said.</p><p>"Is that why you kept focusing under the table for long periods of time?" Parker questioned. "Were you secretly signing?"</p><p>Natasha quirked a hairless eyebrow at him. "Duh."</p><p>"Wait, you saw that they were conspiring this whole time and you <em>did nothing</em>? Parker, what gives?"</p><p>"I dunno."</p><p>"That might be my favorite game of Catan I've ever played," Clint announced.</p><p>"Me too," Nat said.</p><p>"I have to disagree. I got played by a bunch of ten-year-olds."</p><p>Parker, exasperated, said, "For the last time, I'm thirteen!"</p><p>"Whatever." She looked between Clint and Natasha, fighting a smile. "Who am I kidding? That was awesome, you guys."</p><p>Clint's face broke into a wide grin. Carol high-fived both him and Natasha. She told Nat, "Next time we play in teams, I want you."</p><p>"Sorry," Nat replied. "I am taken." She fist-bumped Clint. Not since Kate beat him at darts had he been so simultaneously intimidated and thrilled to be a girl's friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, the things I do for fanfiction. I wrote this chapter by actually setting up a Catan board and playing with 3 stuffed animals as stand-ins for Natasha, Parker, and Carol. I wanted an authentic play-by-play, so instead of making it up as I went along I just decided to play a real game. It was quite the experience, especially since someone walked in on me playing and I had to ask, "If I said this was for a fanfiction, would you believe me?"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Days in Between</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this AU is about the farthest from stupid fanfiction tropes as you can get, but since this is a prequel for one Clint Barton...there is one classic trope that I just had to adapt. You'll see :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"We should play hide and seek or something," Clint suggested to Nat and Nick. All three of them were scheduled for chemo later that afternoon, and he wanted to take advantage of feeling not-horrible before that. Plus, if they hid well enough maybe even the nurses couldn't find them and they could delay heading down to the chemo clinic.</p><p>"I'm in," Nick agreed.</p><p>"What does that mean?" Natasha asked.</p><p>Clint wasn't sure if she just didn't know the vocabulary, or if hide and seek wasn't something played in Russia, but he explained it as simply as possible. "Everybody except one person hides and the one person tries to find them."</p><p>She nodded. "Not hard."</p><p>"Well, that depends on how good a hider you are."</p><p>"What should we set the boundaries to?" Nick asked.</p><p>"This ward. We can't go wandering all over the hospital."</p><p>"Well, we <em>could</em>," Nick said.</p><p>"But we'll almost certainly get caught and be forced to stop," Clint reminded him.</p><p>"Fine. Just this ward."</p><p>"Who is looking?" Natasha asked.</p><p>"I'll look," Clint offered. "I'll count to fifty and then start." He turned to face the wall and started counting aloud. In their excitement to start the game, he'd neglected to ask if Natasha even knew English numbers that high, but he supposed that not knowing when the count would end would only prompt her to hide faster. By the time he reached thirty, he could hear no sign of them scrambling around, so they must've hidden farther away. "Ready or not, here I come!" he announced. Clint started his search in the common room, since it had the most nooks and crannies to hide in. He found Nick within thirty seconds of walking into the room; he stood in the game closet.</p><p>"I made it too easy for you, didn't I?"</p><p>"I've been here a long time," Clint explained. "I know all the best hiding spots."</p><p>"Well, you should have mentioned that before I agreed to play this with you," he grumbled.</p><p>"Whatever. Just help me find Nat."</p><p>"Help you? That's not my job. As a fellow hider, I'm supposed to just follow you around and laugh when you fail."</p><p>"Are those really the rules?" Clint asked dubiously.</p><p>"They are where I come from."</p><p>"Fine. Don't help, then." Clint thoroughly checked the rest of the common room, including under blankets and behind cabinets. No sign of Natasha.</p><p>Parker wandered into the common room while they searched. "Did you guys lose something?" he asked.</p><p>"Natasha," Nick remarked dryly.</p><p>"She's <em>missing</em>?"</p><p>"No," Clint corrected, elbowing Nick in the side. "We're playing hide and seek. But we're pretty sure she's not here. Have you seen her?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>"Do you want to help us look and play next round?"</p><p>"Sure. Why not?" Parker joined them as they moved on to the classroom next. It was a Saturday, so the Ancient One was nowhere around. Clint looked behind her desk, around all the bookshelves, and under all the desks and tables. Still no sign of Natasha.</p><p>"She's really good at this," Clint said.</p><p>"What did you expect?" Nick asked. After clearing the classroom, Clint decided to knock on everyone's door and determine if she'd stowed away with anyone. She wasn't in hers, Nick's, or Clint's empty rooms, and neither Thor nor Bruce had abetted her in hiding in either of their rooms. Clint sent Nick and Parker on to Bucky's room while he checked in with Carol. Since this round had already proved Natasha's skill at hiding, Clint wanted something extra tricky for next round. And he needed help.</p><p>The song "I'm Only Happy When It Rains" blared so loudly from her room that Clint was surprised she hadn't already been told to turn it down by one of the nurses. Clint knocked loudly enough to be heard over the racket and was invited in. He turned down his hearing aids on the way in to tune out the excessive noise of the music. As soon as she saw who it was, though, Carol paused the song. "What's up, Hawkeye?" she greeted.</p><p>"Two things. One: have you seen Nat?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Two: will you help me with something?"</p><p>"Is it illegal?"</p><p>Clint pondered this for a moment. "I'm not sure."</p><p>"Then I'm in."</p><p>Clint explained the plan to her, watching the impish grin on her face widen as he laid it out. "We good?" he asked when he finished.</p><p>"Yep. But whatever you do, don't tell Rogers."</p><p>"Duh."</p><p>Clint ducked back out and met Parker and Nick in the hallway. He asked if Bucky had any tips, but they shook their heads. He confirmed Carol hadn't seen her either.</p><p>"Where else is there to look?" Parker asked.</p><p>"I don't know," Nick said.</p><p>"There's one more room on the ward. The kitchen."</p><p>"Oh right! The poor underused kitchen that Steve insists on showing all of us," Parker said.</p><p>"He showed you too?" Clint asked.</p><p>"Yep. I've never used it though."</p><p>"Me neither. I don't know if Steve ever even gave Natasha a welcome tour, but it's possible she ran across it on her own."</p><p>"It's not hidden behind a secret door or some shit. It's not that hard to find," Nick reminded them.</p><p>"Well then what are we waiting for?" The three of them set off for the kitchen. At first glance, there was no sign of life. They walked around the counters and found nothing. Though he doubted they were big enough to fit a person, Clint started opening cabinets. The first three he opened contained only the expected pots and pans. Then he saw a hint of dark red hair. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed. Natasha didn't crawl out of the cabinet, so Clint ducked his head in deeper to investigate. He grabbed the hair and pulled—coming up with nothing more than a wig.</p><p>"Oh that's clever," Nick remarked. Clint should have foreseen her pulling something like that.</p><p>"I guess she's probably not in this room then," Parker said. "But where else could she possibly be?"</p><p>"Unless…it's a double bluff. She wants us to think she stowed her hair here and hid somewhere else, but what if she's just somewhere else in the room? Clint eyed the biggest cabinet up on the wall and opened it. Sure enough, Natasha had tucked herself in there with her knees up to her chest.</p><p>"That cannot be comfortable," Nick said.</p><p>"Is not," she quipped, disentangling herself and hopping down onto the counter and then onto the floor. She placed one hand on the counter and stretched laterally over it, Clint noticed her other hand and arm automatically assumed a ballerina-like position above her head. "What took so long?" she asked with a smirk.</p><p>"You're a really good hider," Clint said. "And since you were found last, you get to seek now."</p><p>"Okay. But…I can count in Russian?" she asked hesitantly.</p><p>"Sure. To fifty," Clint said, reiterating the number in sign language so she understood. Natasha nodded, covered her eyes, and began counting. To prevent Parker or Nick from seeing where he ended up, Clint jogged out of the room and down the hall back to Carol's. He opened and closed the door as quietly as possible. "It's go time," he told her. Carol nodded with soldierly discipline. She'd already raised the hospital bed as high as it would go with the controls and taken the panel off the ceiling. As she stood up on the bed, Clint hopped up and stood before her. He looked up into the hole in the ceiling, then to the grate that had covered the vent now leaning against the wall.</p><p>"You sure about this?" Carol asked on last time.</p><p>"Yep." He nodded in affirmation. Carol clasped her hands together and bent down so he could step up. Clint was both small and skinny for his age—six years of cancer treatment could do that to a guy—so Carol had no problem boosting him up. Once his upper body passed through the grate and into the shaft, he pressed his arms to the bottom and started army crawling forward as Carol continued to press his feet higher.</p><p>"I can't go much farther, are you in?" she asked. Her voice echoed loudly in the narrow shaft.</p><p>"Yeah," Clint called back. He lifted his feet off of Carol's hands and tucked them back under himself so he now crouched within the shaft like a crawling baby. Carol worked quickly, resecuring the grate with practiced efficiency. He had no idea where she'd gotten a screwdriver, but he'd learned not to ask Carol such questions. She only ever answered them with silence and a mysterious glint in her eye.</p><p>"Okay, all done. Stay quiet," she prompted. Clint heard her bustle around below him for a few seconds before the obnoxiously loud music resumed. Being in this narrow tunnel reminded him of the cardboard box fort he and Scott had built all those years ago. Although it was much colder in here. He knew it would be ages before even someone as clever as Natasha found him here, so he settled into a more comfortable position lying on his side. With nothing to occupy himself, he could do nothing but wait. Telling time was impossible, but he guessed it was about ten minutes before he heard a knock at Carol's door below. She paused the music and answered the door.</p><p>"Clint is here?" Natasha asked.</p><p>"No. Haven't seen him," Carol said nonchalantly. Wow, she was a good liar. Clint clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing and giving it away.</p><p>"I am looking anyway," Natasha announced. Naturally, she didn't trust Carol. Clint didn't think she fully trusted anybody except Nurse Happy, and maybe him and Nick. She surveyed Carol's room for about two minutes, but was apparently satisfied with its lack of a hidden Clint. She thanked Carol and left. A few seconds later the music started up again. He started to grow uncomfortable from the cramped position, so he uncurled and lay flat on his back staring up at the top of the vent shaft about a foot above his head. When he devised this plan, Clint didn't account for how boring it would be. The novelty of his super clever hiding spot had worn off and he wished Nat would hurry up and find him soon.</p><p>When Carol's next song ended, he asked loudly enough for her to hear, "How long has it been?"</p><p>"Half an hour," she replied. That was a long time to be stuck in such a small space. Most people probably would have grown so claustrophobic they bust out at this point, but Clint was used to it. Both radiation treatments and scans had required him to sit still in incredibly small tubes. At least here he could move around more freely, with no mask pinning his head in place or dire warnings that if he moved they'd have to start all over again to get a clear picture. And Carol's music provided much better background noise than the annoying machines.</p><p>He guessed that at least another fifteen minutes had passed before Carol's door opened again. "We still can't find Clint." Nick's voice that time.</p><p>Then Parker, "We're getting worried."</p><p>"Help us look please?" Natasha requested.</p><p>"Alright," Carol acquiesced. "I'll be there in a minute." She ushered them all outside and closed the door again. "Okay Clint," she continued. "Let's scare the shit out of them, how's that sound?"</p><p>"Sounds good." He listened as she explained the plan, asking if he trusted her enough to proceed like this. Clint knew she'd make good on her promise. She took the grate off once again and set it aside, leaving a hole in the ceiling, while he repositioned himself. Without the grate, he could hear what was happening in the room below with much more clarity. Carol opened the door and called down the hallway, "Guys! I think I found him."</p><p>"Where?" Natasha asked. Clint heard multiple sets of footsteps walk into the room. He peeked behind him and could just barely make out Carol clambering back onto the bed and standing right beneath the hole.</p><p>"Why is there a hole in your ceiling?" Parker asked.</p><p>"Maintenance came in here to do some work," she said coolly.</p><p>"But it was not there when we were here last," Natasha pointed out.</p><p>"Yeah, they were in and out really quick. Just took the grate off and left. I think they're coming back to do actual work later."</p><p>"We've been all over the ward and we haven't seen anyone from maintenance," Nick said.</p><p>"Huh. That's weird. I guess they're just…" she hesitated, and Clint waited for the code word, "…sneaky." That was it. Clint edged backwards and let himself slip through the hole and fall right into Carol's arms bridal style. She caught him with the perfect amount of give to slow his fall to a steady stop, just as she'd promised. He would never forget the scream that escaped from Nick Fury's throat. Parker audibly gasped, a breath which appeared to catch in his throat and render him speechless and wide-eyed.</p><p>"Shob tebe deti v sup srali!" Natasha exclaimed. Clint had no idea what that meant, but she sounded both angry and almost amused at the same time. He guessed it was probably a savage Russian insult.</p><p>"You found me!" he cheered, hopping down from Carol's hold to stand on the bed before them.</p><p>"Motherfucker," Nick growled. "How the hell did you even get up there?"</p><p>Carol raised her hand.</p><p>"I had help," Clint reiterated.</p><p>"And I thought Natasha's hiding spot was clever," Parker said in shock. "Dude, that was insane."</p><p>"Thank you." He took a bow just to be extra.</p><p>"Let me repeat this: nobody tells Rogers," Carol stated. "Or any nurses." They all immediately agreed to that.</p><p>"I'm never playing this with either of you ever again," Nick remarked. Then they all descended into raucous, uncontrolled laughter. By the time Peggy tracked them down to send them to chemo, they were still laughing, and they kept laughing through most of the infusion. Whenever they calmed down, all it took was a quick glance upward or Natasha repeating that unknown but threatening sounding Russian phrase to set them off again. Clint barely noticed the effects of chemo through his joy and exhilaration.</p><p>~0~</p><p>Clint didn't understand how Carol had the strength to lift him that day, because less than two weeks later she was dead. It all happened in the blink of an eye, and he was right back to where he'd been five years ago: weeping in his mother's arms and asking for a person who would never be there again. Carol had never met Scott, but Clint liked to think they would get along if they did. Hopefully he'd take care of her, wherever they were.</p><p>Those two weeks after Carol's passing, an undefinable mood descended over the ward. Nobody knew quite what to do with themselves. In the common room, no one could sit for more than a few minutes without glancing despairingly to the gauntlet, which now displayed its first casualty. It looked so wrong to see nothing in Carol's own column. Clint played a lot of darts in those two weeks, sometimes with Natasha. Nick never joined them for darts, not after he lost so badly the first time they played. He claimed having only one eye made aiming much more difficult, but Natasha pointed out that having spent six years without the other one, his vision should have adjusted. Nick refused to comment further. Clint thought he might just be a sore loser, but it didn't matter. He enjoyed the one-on-one time with Nat.</p><p>They signed a lot during those two weeks, when the grief was so heavy in their throats that to speak felt like a monumental task. Natasha caught on quickly, much quicker than Clint had when he learned the language. Steve showed up after the first week, not as a visitor but as a patient this time. Having him there lifted Clint's spirits a little bit—lifted everyone's spirits, actually—but it wasn't enough to counteract the gaping hole centered around the vacant room beside Steve's.</p><p>Clint had gained and lost several influential people in the past six years. Dr. Potts and the rest of his cancer fighting team, Scott, Mr. Lang, Steve, the incredible clan of nurses here, Kate, Carol, Natasha. And, of course, the new person he met two thousand one hundred seventy five days after starting this journey: Tony Stark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eight down. One to go. And then it's sequel time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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